


The Tell Tale Watch

by ALittleWrath



Category: Doctor Who (2005)
Genre: Gen
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-12-06
Updated: 2020-02-14
Packaged: 2021-02-26 04:35:26
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 5,288
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21697843
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ALittleWrath/pseuds/ALittleWrath
Summary: Exploring the TARDIS, Bill comes across an abandoned room. The Doctor isn't thrilled about her being there, afraid of what ghosts she might kick up with the dust.
Comments: 13
Kudos: 45





	1. Chapter 1

Within her first week on the TARDIS, Bill is up and wandering around, exploring the endless corridors.

"You won't find much," the Doctor warns her, "She only reveals herself bit by bit to newcomers. A few rooms at a time."

Bill frowns, tilting her head.

"Well, that's funny," she says, "cos I've just been like, walking around."

The Doctor looks up from the TARDIS console.

"Walking around where?"

"Anywhere. I found loads of stuff." Bill says, idly meandering around the console. "There's this huge room that just like an art gallery? There's a big wardrobe, there's a  _ pool,  _ there was this one really sort of creepy abandoned looking lab-"

The Doctors head snaps up.

"What do you mean, abandoned?"

"I dunno, it just looks, like, abandoned. There's all these chemicals on the table, and this fizzy electric thing like they used to have in science class when you're a kid. Everything's dusty and some things are broken and everything smells. And there's like, Beatles posters on the walls, I didn't know you liked the Beatles-"

"I  _ don't _ like the Beatles," The Doctor looks back toward the console decisively, "And don't go in there again."

"Why not?"

"It's not that I don't  _ like  _ them, I just don't _ love  _ them enough to put up posters-"

"No I mean, why not go in?"

The Doctor looks up at Bill again, his gaze steely, a deep frown etched into his face.

"Because there are _ dangerous _ experiments in there, experiments the technician never got a chance to complete. Volatile. That room should be- it should be sealed off, I don't know why it isn't."

The Doctor punctuates the last bit by glancing upward, as if the TARDIS will bashfully apologize for letting her guard down.

"No more exploring for now, keep to your room and this room until I get this sorted out." The Doctor says decisively. "... Bill?"

"Fine." She says, trying to sound nonchalant.  _ Yeah right, _ she thinks, as if she would pass up the opportunity to explore a multi-dimensional spaceship just because the Doctor asked her to. She's traversing the ship again by that night, when they get back from their trip. She waits until the Doctor has disappeared from the console room, then plunges straight back in to her search. Over the course of the next few days, she finds more and more winding hallways and impossible rooms- there's an anti-gravity billiards table and a glass greenhouse, a room dedicated entirely to fezzes and an observation deck with sleeping bags on the floor. There's dangerous stuff, too- she encounters the laboratory again, as well as a room wall to wall with Tesla Coils, and another full of small, glowing jars. Almost a week in, after taking a long, patient trail of random lefts and rights, she sees it.

At the end of a long corridor is a door, covered in warning signs. In the centre is a large biohazard symbol, a  _ CAUTION _ warning label warding her off. It doesn't stop there though; there's a  _ KEEP OUT _ sign just underneath, and caution tape criss-crossed over the door. Bill feels her face spilt into a wide grin-  _ finally, the good stuff!  _ She rushes forward, fumbling with the door handle. She has no idea what she'll find; a nuclear reactor, hopefully, or maybe a batch of incubating Grievers, or possibly even the fabled engine room. She giggles maniacally to herself as she finally gets the handle turned, and when she throws the door open what she finds is… a bedroom.

That's it, just a bedroom. No nuclear reactor, no time vortex, no dangerous reality altering scientific equipment, and Bill feels herself deflate as she realises the warnings on the door were ironically put there by some over-dramatic teenager. She sighs, almost turning away to go find some other lost room, before realising...

Another bedroom. Two people on board…  _ huh. _

Bill closes the door behind her as she meanders further into the room. The first thing she registers is that it's a mess. It isn't  _ filthy- _ in fact, the jarring neatness of the bookshelf compared to the clothes strewn about the floor and the unmade bed give off the impression of having been recently cleaned. The next thing she notices is that it's actually… pretty cool. It's dimly lit, only one lamp on a nearby desk providing illumination, but she can see there are burnt-out fairy lights strung up all around the room. There's a pair of red All-Stars by the closet, and those clothes that litter the floor are vintage-y looking blazers and funky floral ties. The walls are lined with movie posters; Ghostbusters, The Goonies and Ferris Bueller being just a few among them. The whole room has a mod fashion, retro nostalgia vibe to it that Bill  _ adores.  _ God, why didn't the TARDIS just give her  _ this  _ room, she thinks as she lets herself fall back onto the bed. It clearly doesn't belong to the crotchety old man who tutors her after class- the thought of him in converse alone is enough to send her into a fit of giggles.

She turns over to get a better view of the record player on the bedside table, and entertains herself for a good few minutes with that alone. After a while she gets up again, and something catches her eye.

There's a long vanity mirror next to the closet. There's a plastic-y gold trim around the sides, and it looks like there's something tucked into the edges. Moving closer reveals the obscure little scraps as photos- the little instant kind with the white edges. As Bill draws nearer, her face now mere inches from the mirror, she can make out the subjects- there's a few pictures of a young girl with blonde hair, some of a red haired woman, and at least one of a woman with a spiky ponytail looking really quite annoyed. There's also a man in some of them, but a quick scan of the photos tells her he isn't in any of them by himself.

She tentatively reaches out, the tip of her finger brushing one of the photos of the blonde girl. She's with the man, who, upon closer inspection, rings some familiar bell in Bills head, but she barely has time to process it before she hears footsteps.

"-no,  _ no _ nonononono," the Doctors voice rings as the door opens. Bill whips her head around, jumping as her heart catches up with her brain. "You're not supposed to be here, get out, out of here  _ out." _

"Wh-" Bill stammers, eyes darting around as if the TARDIS herself could help her of this abrupt situation. "but I-"

"This is not a conversation,  _ get out!"  _ The Doctor snaps.

Bill's instincts kick in, and she bolts around the Doctor and out of the room. She doesn't stop running until she's back in her own bedroom with the door shut behind her.

_ Stupid old man!,  _ She thinks, flinging herself onto her bed. Why did she let him yell at her like that?  _ Because you panicked. And because you were sniffing around someone's bedroom.  _ She huffs a sigh, burying her face in her pillow.  _ Whatever, it's not his room,  _ she thinks,  _ he can't tell me to keep out of it. _

The next day, there's silence in the console room. The Doctor is pulling levers and pushing buttons and flicking switches, piloting them to whatever destination he's picked out for them.

Finally, the Doctor looks up awkwardly and says, 

"I'm sorry. About yesterday."

"... Thanks." She says coldly.

"... You have to understand-"  _ Here it comes,  _ "I'm not just arbitrarily trying to keep you in your room for no reason. Telling you to stay to your room was for your own  _ safety, _ the TARDIS is _ dangerous  _ if you're not ready!"

"Well if she's letting me roam around wherever I like then she must think I'm ready!"

"Well evidently she was wrong!"

Bill winces, guilt suddenly creeping up on her. _ Stupid.  _ The Doctor doesn't look entirely innocent either, a nervous frown spreading across his face.

"I want to keep you safe," he says gently, "And to do that I need you to use your  _ judgement, _ not dawdle in rooms you don't belong in."

Bill stays quiet for a long moment, but eventually looks away and sighs.

"Yeah, alright." She says resignedly.

They spend the afternoon in France, and get tangled up in a small revolution. 

"Gotta get my books out of the library," Bill says once they're back safe aboard the TARDIS. The Doctor merely nods, setting about piloting them home, and Bill rushes off.

Not to the library.

She goes straight to the room she'd found. She just wants to see it again, if she can squeeze one more visit in. She's afraid, at first, that she won't remember the route, but it proves quicker and easier than she thought. In no time, she's standing in front of the loud yellow warning labels, and quietly scooching into the room.

Cautiously, she goes back to the mirror. The photos are still there, and Bill's eyes search frantically for the photo she'd been analysing the day before. She finally spots it- the photo of the blonde girl and the man.

The girl is wearing dark eye makeup, giggling into her sleeve, and leaning slightly on the man. He's young looking, with large, doe-ish brown eyes and sticky-uppy hair. He's smiling down at the girl, and Bill notes that the tie around his neck is lying on the floor beside her, so she figures she can guess whose room this is. There's two other photos of the pair, and three more photos of the girl alone. Another photo pictures the man, slightly older, standing in front of a horizon with the red haired woman, both grinning ear to ear, and there's two other pictures of her alone- one where she's laughing, another where she's sticking her tongue out at the photographer. There remaining two photos are of the annoyed woman, and another one of her where she's smiling, although it looks at least somewhat posed. Bill scans the photos again, this time focusing on the young man- the man whose tie is on the floor, the man who isn't in any photos alone, the supposed owner of this room. She gets that feeling again- that he looks _ familiar,  _ but not quite like she's seen him before. It finally registers- the beaky nose, those wide diamond eyes, that skinny frame. Not  _ quite _ the same- shorter face, broader chin, the eyes are brown instead of blue- but  _ similar.  _ Just similar enough, and just  _ young _ enough, for Bill to look around this abandoned room that the Doctor doesn't want her in, and think she might know what happened.

Suddenly, something occurs to her.

_ What am I doing in here?,  _ She asks herself. This is somebody's bedroom, maybe even someone who _ died,  _ and she's snooping around to what, spite the Doctor? This is ridiculous, she needs to leave _ immediately. _

But….

She likes it in here. It feels right, hanging out in this strange place with its fairy lights and it's vintage decor, and she can't help but feel like she and whoever lived here would've got on like a house on fire.

She slips out of the room, then, remembering her lost textbooks, but she knows she's coming back.

"Alright, just finished that review for Hodges," Bill says, letting herself into the Doctor's office, "Sorry it took all night, I had like a million pages to cover."

It's the end of the week, the time when they would typically shed the shackles of their weekly obligations and fly off to their next adventure. Unfortunately, both of them have also been working on  _ finishing  _ said obligations since class ended, and it is now 11:27 PM on a Friday night.

"That's alright," the Doctor says, "I only just finished grading either way."

"Bummer." Bill says, plopping into the seat opposite him.

"No sense leaving now." He says, folding up a binder full of, god willing, A's. But probably not. "You'd just end up falling asleep on the ride."

"Speak for yourself, old man!"

"Timelords don't sleep as much, remember?" The Doctor offers, before glancing warily at his clock. "...Actually I've been awake for twenty-four hours, it's about time."

"Oh thank god," Bill says, "I'm knackered."

"If we aren't leaving until tomorrow," the Doctor says, rolling his eyes, "You'll probably want to sleep in your own bed."

"No, s'alright, if I sleep in the TARDIS we can leave straight away."

"We can leave straight away anyway, it's a time machine."

"You don't know how hard I am to wake up." Bill argues. "Plus my mattress on the TARDIS is comfier, it'll just be easier to stay the night."

"Suit yourself," the Doctor says, dragging himself up from his desk and producing a TARDIS key seemingly from thin air.

She waits until her and the Doctor have said their goodnights, and he's gone and holed himself up in wherever it is he holes himself up. Once she's sure the coast is clear of him, she steals away to the abandoned room, locking the door behind her. She spends the night rifling through the closet, admiring the vintage blazers and patterned ties. Much as she wants to take an item for herself, she doesn't- it'd be disrespectful to take something, and even if she did, she wouldn't be able to wear it without the Doctor seeing. Careful not to fall asleep in the room, she sneaks back to her own in the middle of the night- although possibly not with enough time to get a decent rest before the TARDIS wakes her up.

But wake her up it does, and her and the Doctor wind up spending the day running from pirates. At night, she returns to the room, this time perusing the bookshelf. It's absolutely pressed wall to wall with tomes of all shapes and sizes- some fiction, some encyclopedias, some covered in nothing but big, circular symbols that Bill could never hope to decipher. She picks one out- an Agatha Christie volume- then lies on the bed reading for the remainder of the night.

They spend Sunday on a beautiful safari planet, and then the week starts back up. Bill goes back to her studently duties, her and the Doctor only going on short trips if they have a surplus of time- which they technically do, but the Doctor always reminds her it doesn't work like that. She goes to class, does her homework, sleeps in her own bed, and confers with the Doctor when she needs to. Friday, after class, they whisk off to Saturn, just to sight see for a bit, then have Chinese food in the TARDIS. At night, Bill goes to the room, pops  _ Sgt. Pepper  _ into the record player, and plops down on the floor in front of the closet. She eyes the converse longingly, but reminds herself she isn't to take anything- she's only here to look at cool stuff. She spends the night pulling bins and boxes from the bottom shelf and rummaging through them. She finds a stethoscope, an old fashioned looking cane with a white handle, a strangely ripe banana, and a peculiar device that looks a bit like a cannibalised radio.

On Saturday night, after a long day of running from strange birdlike creatures, she slinks into the forbidden room again. She glances toward a lamp that sits on the desk, and after a moment's consideration, hesitantly  _ clicks  _ it to life. She opens the top drawer, then, and cautiously starts shuffling through the contents. An array of metal springs, a few broken handheld pencil sharpeners, and more pens then Bill would know what to do with. She wanders over to the far bedside table, setting up the record player to play  _ Rumours,  _ but before she can open the drawer just below it, her eye is caught by something laying flat behind the turntable. It's perfectly rectangular and has a small peg sticking diagonally out of the back- a frame, for some reason turned over onto its front. Bill reaches out, gently lifting it into an upright position.

The picture that is revealed underneath is of the same red haired woman from the mirror. She looks slightly caught off guard, surprised grin on her face, and with the larger photo Bill can see the bluish-green fade of her eyes. Her smile is contagious, and Bill finds herself grinning as she opens the drawer. Amongst an array of knick-knacks, she finds a blue light-bulb, some sort of metallic tubing, and what looks like a wind-up key. She shifts the items around a bit, trying to see if there's anything else interesting hidden in the confines of the drawer, and she's about to close it again when she sees a silvery glimmer at the very back. She reaches her hand in deep, and pulls out an intricately engraved fob watch.

_ Huh,  _ she thinks, turning it over in her hands. She slowly sits down on the bed,

The pattern on the front is a mosaic of looping, repeating and interconnected circles, all orbiting each other with a spattering of random lines crossed over them. Bill can't help but think they resemble the symbols that decorate some of the books. Something is missing though, she thinks, and before she can process what it is she's lifting the watch to her ear.  _ No tick.  _ Maybe, she thinks, she should open it just to be sure.

Open it she does, and sure enough… nothing. No movement of the hands or ticking of the gears grinding away. It's utterly lifeless, sitting in her hand, and it fills her with an odd grief, not unlike the sensation one feels when finding out you've missed a movie you really wanted to see in theatre.

But nonetheless it's  _ beautiful,  _ an antique work of art, and Bill reminds herself  _ several  _ times that she shouldn't take anything out of the room before realising that she isn't moving an inch. She doesn't want to let go of it- she isn't sure why, but she's overcome with a feeling of _ rightness,  _ that this watch is something special that she needs to hold on to. That it was  _ meant to be  _ that she found it, it was meant for _ her  _ and her only. She's had it before, of course, that feeling, practically every time she goes to a thrift store. She doesn't know why humans get that, that feeling of connection from something as simple as coming into possession of an old object, but right now she feels it as clear as day.

_ Oh, what the heck,  _ she thinks. None of this stuff looks like it's been touched for ages anyway.

The Doctor won't notice it's missing.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> You can find me on Tumblr at Chronic-Pain-Crowley


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Okay I've been staring at this chapter for two and a half months already and I refuse to edit it  
> Also just to be clear, if you're unaware some people have been noticing that most of the regenerations age somewhere between 50-200 years over the course of their runs, but Ten states his age frequently enough that most estimates put his lifespan at about six years total and that is absolutely vital to the nature of this fic

"How did you sleep?" The Doctor asks over breakfast Sunday morning. Bill pokes half-heartedly at her blintz as the Doctor enjoys a tarte tatin, wind rifling through his silken silver locks. They're seated outside a cafe in the middle of Paris, 1942, which Bill thinks is a little overkill considering she's still in her pajamas.

"Normal." Bill blurts out. She can feel the fobwatch weighing down the pocket of her jumper. "Normal. Normal sleep, normal night."

The Doctor looks up at her suspiciously.

"You slept… normal." He repeats.

"... Yeah." Bill doubles down, squirming under his gaze.

"So you didn't, for instance, hang upside down like a bat. Or devour your mate first, like a Kizarian lizard queen."

Bill looks up thoughtfully.

"Nah, didn't do any of that."

"No hiding under the bed like a monster waiting for a child to fall asleep?"

"I bet you think you're being real clever right now."

"No." The Doctor says, shaking his head, before smiling. "Only a  _ little _ bit."

When Bill changes, she tucks the watch into her jeans pocket, to stay there rest of the day. They meet a creature who can sense precious gems and metals, and Bill quietly tucks her hand in her pocket to cover the silver. On Monday, after some deliberation, she pulls just the chain out of her pocket, showing it off like some nineties punk. It's not like she'll be seeing the Doctor most of the day anyway- and when she does see him, she quietly slips it out of sight. The next time she goes to the room, she slips  _ Thriller _ into her school bag. She'll return it, of course, but she has a record player in her room and wants to listen to it without threat of the Doctor barging in. In class a few days later, taking one of the Doctors exams, she wracks her brain for an answer to a question she's not sure she even understands. It isn't something she could've studied, the sort of subjective thing they'd never talk about in an actual textbook. She ruminates over the question for what feels like an eternity, and then, just as she flips the page to give up,

She just  _ knows.  _ Ideas are spilling from her head faster than she can jot them down, and before she knows she's exceeded the allotted space to answer.

"Have you always had those shoes?" The Doctor asks outside the TARDIS one day, as he unlocks the door for them to retire from their Saturday trip.

"Oh, these old things?" Bill asks, glancing down at the red trainers. Of course, she'd finally given in and taken them from the room- she'd always wanted a classic red pair.

"I thought yours were teal." Says the Doctor, "and they're not new, clearly- they're all filthy and falling apart."

"Got them a long time ago," Bill shrugs, "lost them for a bit. Found them again. Do you like them?"

The Doctor continues to stare discerningly at them for a moment, then, opening the door, says, "No."

The next time Bill visits the room, she can't help but stare at the fairy-lights hung about the wall. Plugged in, but never lit up so long as she's been coming here. They must be busted- but they can't be that hard to fix, can they? They're just wires, after all. She sits down with a pair of wire cutters she found in one of the drawers, and spends the night replacing fuses, twisting wires and filing sockets. She's a little surprised with herself- she's never so much as changed a bulb before, and yet somehow it feels as natural as riding a bike. When she's finished, she admires her good work, the glowing lights illuminating all the dark corners and bringing the room to life.

"Your answer on this test was inspired, Bill," the Doctor tells her as she sits down across from his desk one night, "except, how did you know what a dimensional dam was- Where'd you get that tie?"

Bill freezes as he looks up at her, eyebrows raised as he stares intensely at her collar. She looks down, remembering herself- with her t-shirt, jeans and bomber jacket, she's wearing a bold red necktie she'd found in the room, embroidered with light blue flowers.

"Charity shop," she says, trying to sound casual. "Only place to get something nice like this these days, you know? If you're lucky, I mean."

"Well that doesn't make any sense," says the Doctor. "It's embroidered. Must've been expensive, or possibly even custom-made. Why would somebody donate that?"

When Bill only stammers in response, the Doctor shrugs.

"Oh well, guess we'll never know. Some mysteries in this universe are to remain unsolved."

They're on a ship in the fifty-first century. The whole place is abandoned, and dark, and Bill has just stumbled upon some sort of fuse box after wandering the cold, empty halls alone for almost twenty minutes.

_ "What do you see?"  _ The Doctor asks over their comms, once she's pried it open.

"They're tubes." She says flatly. The devices in the case look nothing like they have on earth- just a series of interconnected tubes, glowing with some golden liquid inside. "I dunno what to do."

The Doctor says something, but Bill isn't listening, because she realises it  _ does _ look familiar. She's not sure where she would have seen it before- maybe some game on her phone- but she can see now that there are latches in between the tubes. She sees a complete pattern in her mind, and carefully begins turning the tubes until they all  _ click  _ into place, the liquid flowing between them, and the corridor lights up all around her.

"Doctor!" She shouts excitedly, "Doctor I got it!"

_ "Good work, but my sectors still dark." _

Sunday night, Bill slips out of her room to get a new album to take home with her. She smiles at the now familiar door, with it's silly warning labels and cautionary stickers, before gently turning the knob

When Bill opens the door, her eyes immediately meet with those of the Doctor, who is sitting patiently on the bed.

"Doctor!" She blurts out, shame washing over her as he stands and trots up to her. "I'm not- I wasn't-"

"It's okay!" The Doctor says, holding up his hands.

"What?"

"It's okay. It's  _ okay."  _ The Doctor reassures her. He stands intimidatingly close to her, but his expression is calm. "I'm not upset, really!" He smiles softly at her. "I'm happy, actually."

Bills entire brain stalls as she stares blankly at those seemingly all-knowing blue eyes, and that hair-raisingly smug smirk.

"You mean, you're not gonna yell at me again?"

The Doctor merely stifles a chuckle, casting his eyes downward for a moment before continuing.

"You know, people come and go on this ship. Running around in this box, hundreds of years of travelling…. But usually, when someone…when they're gone, I go into their room, and clean it out. Take out all the garbage, their clothes go in the wardrobe, their books go in the library, everything that can be repurposed gets its new purpose. The basics, their furniture, or anything I know they wouldn't want touched if they ever came back, that stays. But this room…" he takes a glance around, and Bill can tell just darting his eyes from place to place is taking a tremendous amount of effort, "it was just…. So fast. I never felt- I never wanted to  _ look  _ at this room again, let alone go through it bit by bit, come in here with boxes and change it. And I still won't!" He shrugs, "but if it's going to be here, I suppose someone may as well get something out of it."

"And you are!" He says then, pointing downward. Bill unconsciously steps back. "I see you've got his shoes! God, you humans'll share anything- but they look nice on you!"

"Really?" Bill looks up in surprise.

"No, I've always hated those things. Ugly little red clown shoes, if you ask me- but! You like them, that's good! Just a few things- Anything you take,  _ bring it back  _ when you're done-  _ don't argue!  _ I don't care if you want it back the very next day, before you go to sleep for the night you return it-  _ exactly  _ as you found it! I don't want to hear any questions, I don't need you being any nosier than you're already being, and if you see anything that you think might be dangerous, like a grenade or a half eaten sandwich, let me know."

He pauses, raising his eyebrows in that expectant way, then says, "Are we good?"

"Yeah. Definitely," Bill nods, and keeps nodding because she's not sure what else to do. The Doctor gives her one last smile, patting her on the shoulder, then brushes passed her toward the door.

"Oh, and, one more thing-" he says, stopping in the frame, "if you find a fobwatch, don't touch it!"

Bill blinks, her hand instinctively shooting toward the pocket of her jeans- where the watch has resided for a little over three weeks now.

"A fobwatch?" She snorts incredulously, "Yeah I'll be sure to keep my eye out. What if there's more than one? How will I know?"

"It'll be the broken one!"

Once Bill is safely back in her room, the door closed behind her, she fumbles the fobwatch out of her pocket. At first, she simply inspects it, turning it over in her hand as many times as it takes to find…  _ something.  _ She doesn't know what she's looking for. Finally, she pops it open, as if it will have magically become functional.

It hasn't.

But it has…  _ changed.  _ Maybe it's a trick of the light, or just her imagination, but Bill could  _ swear  _ the face of the watch is now emitting some sort of faint…  _ glow. _

"What  _ are  _ you…" Bill mutters to herself.

_ "-neural relay-"  _ says a voice.

Bill jumps, instinctively letting go of the watch- but luckily she catches it before it hits the ground, her hold on it  _ click _ ing it shut.

She stands there, stock-still for a moment, holding the fobwatch between her hands, before slowly lifting it back up to her face. Her thumb hovers tentatively over the stem, gearing herself up to pop it back open. She squeezes her eyes shut, holds her breath, and presses the button.

When she opens her eyes, the watch is _ definitely  _ glowing. A soft, yellow light emits from the face, illuminating the air between them. She can't help but be captivated by it for a moment, but quickly shakes herself out of her stupor.

"Did you just…  _ talk?"  _ She asks, then, feeling slightly ridiculous.

_ "-like an afterimage,"  _ says the same voice from before, crackling through static. There's something odd about the accent that Bill can't quite place, but the voice is unmistakably that of a young man.

"You're _ joking.."  _ Bill breathes, a nervous giggle escaping her. Now  _ this,  _ she thinks, is  _ wicked _ . "How are you doing that? What are you?"

The fobwatch remains quiet for a moment, then says,  _ "-a footprint on the beach-" _

Bill shakes her head. "I dunno what that's s'posed to mean. Are you trapped in there? I saw something like that on a cartoon the other day."

_ "... Living consciousness-"  _ the watch crackles. Bill feels a chill go down her spine.

"What do I call you?"

_ "I'm the Doctor."  _ Says the watch. Bill gives a confused little chuckle.

"No you're not," she says, holding the watch closer and wandering over to her bed "the grumpy old blokes the Doctor."

_ "I'm the Doctor." _

"Well I'm not gonna call you Doctor, mate."

The watch is silent again, the glow starting to dim, then says,

_ "-had this friend once. She called me Spaceman." _

"Er, good for her, not sure it's gonna work for me though," Bill says thoughtfully as she sits down on the edge of her mattress, "Anything else?"

_ "... Timelord…." _

"You're a Timelord? What, like the Docto-"

_ "Victorious." _

"... Victorious? Izat your name?" Bill repeats distastefully, "Bit of a mouthful… I'll call you Vicky. Had a friend at school named Vicky, turned out to be a bit of a brat. Works though. Is that alright?"

_ "Brilliant!"  _ Says the watch. Bill smiles to herself, an odd sense of pride coming to her, but it falters when she remembers the Doctor's words.  _ Don't touch it,  _ he'd said, and now she has a  _ talking thing _ in her hands that glows and knows about Timelords and  _ really  _ maybe she should run and go get him and-

An image flashes in her mind, of the Doctor locking the watch away in a box and throwing away the key.

_ "Lock me up-"  _ The watch says,  _ "Throw me in a cage?" _

"Yeah, you're probably right," she says awkwardly, "best not."

She looks down at it, still faintly glowing, and gently closes it.

"You stay right there," she says, placing it on her nightstand, "And it'll be our little secret."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Fyi you can find me on Tumblr at Chronic-Pain-Crowley


End file.
